
Ancient Scottish textile hidden under a loch for 2,500 years to go on display
A remarkably well-preserved Iron Age textile is going on public display for the very first time after being hidden beneath Loch Tay for nearly 2,500 years. The ancient fabric remnant was found back in 1979 after lying undiscovered for millenia.
Believed to be one of the oldest surviving pieces of woven fabric in Britain, the textile was discovered during excavations at the Oakbank Crannog, a reconstructed Iron Age dwelling that was perched on stilts above the loch in Perthshire.
Natural preservation by silt at the bottom of the loch kept the rare find intact over the centuries, but until now, it was considered too delicate to exhibit. Thanks to a meticulous conservation and stabilisation process, funded by Museums Galleries Scotland, the textile can now be safely viewed by the public.
It is being showcased from Wednesday at the Scottish Crannog Centre, where it has taken pride of place in the Iron Age village, visitor centre and museum on the shores of Loch Tay. The precious relic is housed in a climate-controlled cabinet to ensure its protection for future generations.
Mike Benson, director of the Scottish Crannog Centre, said: 'We are absolutely thrilled to be able to invite the public to come and see this amazing find.
'This piece would have been made by a whole community, from the shearing of the sheep, to the processing and dyeing of the wool, to the weaving of the textile.
'Our centre today is very much about community and the one thing that unites all of us is our common humanity through the ages.
'We're really looking forward to finding out what people make of this rare textile, which is part of our past but also a hugely important part of our present and future. We hope people will be drawn to see this exhibit, and the rest of our extensive collection, for years to come.'
Archaeologists at the University of Glasgow have dated the Oakbank Textile to between 480 and 390BC using radiocarbon analysis.
Dr Susanna Harris, senior lecturer in archaeology at the university, said: 'There are very few early textiles of this date and we think this is the first one of this type, of 2/1 twill, in Scotland.
'Wool was such an important material in Scotland, it's been exciting to analyse this piece. It's great that the Scottish Crannog Centre has taken this step.
"It's really important finds like this go on display. It may be a small piece of textile but it tells us a lot about the heritage of Scottish textiles.'
Crannogs, ancient homes built on stilts or stone over water, were once a common sight across Scotland, typically linked to the shore by a wooden bridge.
These unique dwellings date back to Neolithic times, with very few examples found outside Scotland and Ireland.
The Scottish Crannog Centre's own reconstructed crannog was tragically lost to a fire in 2021. But in a major step forward, the centre reopened last year on a larger site near Kenmore.
The team is now well underway with building a new crannog, using traditional and sustainable construction techniques to honour the site's historical roots.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Glasgow Times
10 hours ago
- Glasgow Times
Historic ultrasound breakthrough honoured in Renfrew
It was at the former Babcock & Wilcox plant in Renfrew on July 21, 1955, that Professor Ian Donald began exploring industrial ultrasound technology's potential to detect human tissue abnormalities. This pioneering effort laid the foundation for one of the 20th century's most revolutionary medical imaging advancements. The commemorative plaque at the Porterfield Road entrance of the Gatehouse Business Centre at Westway (Image: Supplied) Seventy years on, Scottish ultrasound technology company Novosound has honoured this world-first achievement with a commemorative plaque at the Porterfield Road entrance of the Gatehouse Business Centre at Westway, the site of the former Babcock & Wilcox factory. A civic ceremony celebrated the occasion, attended by local councillors, industry leaders, and special guests. READ NEXT: Coke and cannabis found in black bags during 7.30am raid on Glasgow home READ NEXT: Project to explore viability of self-driving bus service in Glasgow Dr Dave Hughes, chief executive officer and founder of Novosound, said: "This door is where modern ultrasound was born. "It's a story not just of innovation, but of Scottish ingenuity and global impact. "We are proud to continue that legacy through our work in wearable medical technology." Councillor Jim Paterson said: "This plaque marks the beginning of a global transformation in how we care for human life. "What started here in Renfrew 70 years ago has touched millions of families around the world." The site also welcomed Marian McNeil, one of the first babies ever to be scanned in the womb using ultrasound, along with long-term site associates Charlie McQueen and Eric Welsh, both of whom share a personal connection to the site. Charlie, who started at Babcock & Wilcox 72 years ago, said: "I met so many wonderful people, from the shop floor to the boardroom. "The company was highly professional and only the best would do." Eric, whose father worked at Babcock & Wilcox during Professor Donald's visits, said: "It's inspiring to come back to the place that helped shape medical history and see it continuing to drive technology forward. "I'm proud to have worked for a company that's had such a meaningful impact on the medical industry and on people's lives."


The Herald Scotland
a day ago
- The Herald Scotland
Why clinical research in Scotland needs urgent rescue
Scotland has long punched above its weight in this field. From pioneering bowel cancer screening programmes using the faecal immunochemical test (FIT), now central to early detection efforts worldwide, to the EAVE-II platform, which was instrumental in understanding vaccine effectiveness during COVID-19, our clinical academics have delivered innovations with national and global impact. Our universities have also played a foundational role in training generations of clinical researchers, including those who went on to become global leaders and Nobel laureates, illustrating the far-reaching potential of sustained investment in this workforce. And yet, the number of clinically trained researchers in Scotland is declining at an alarming rate. This is especially evident at the crucial mid-career level—senior lecturers and research-active consultants—where we've seen a 30% drop over the last decade. These are the future leaders of our health system: those who secure major grants, mentor junior doctors, and help bridge the gap between lab bench and hospital ward. While the NHS workforce as a whole has expanded, its research arm is shrinking—and fast. The reasons are well known. Scotland currently lacks a dedicated, additional, ring-fenced funding stream to support the training and development of clinical academics. Without structural backing, research becomes optional—an extra task squeezed between clinics and night shifts. And yet, despite these pressures, many young doctors remain determined to pursue research careers—not because the system supports them, but in spite of it. It is time we did better for them—and for the future of Scottish healthcare. There is now a clear opportunity to reverse this trend. The Office for Strategic Coordination of Health Research (OSCHR), through a taskforce led by Professor Patrick Chinnery and endorsed by leading national research bodies, has laid out a detailed and practical roadmap. Among its recommendations: the creation of a national clinical academic career framework, expansion of joint NHS–university research posts, and the integration of research pathways into routine NHS workforce planning. These are achievable goals. What's needed now is political will and national leadership. Scotland must adapt and implement these reforms without delay. That means coordinated action from NHS Education Scotland, the Chief Scientist Office, universities, health boards, and government. We also need visible champions—those willing to mentor, invest in, and inspire the next generation of research-active clinicians. We now face a choice. Do we allow this research capacity to wither, or do we build on it to create a health system that is smarter, faster, and fairer? The answer should be clear. If Scotland wants to remain a global leader in healthcare innovation, we must support the people who make it possible. At the heart of these discussions must be the public and patients we serve—because their future depends on it. This letter was co-authored by: Professor David Argyle, Vice Principal and Head of College of Medicine and Veterinary, University of Edinburgh; Professor David Blackbourn, Head of the School of Medicine, Medical Sciences and Nutrition, University of Aberdeen; Professor Rory McCrimmon, Dean of the School of Medicine, University of Dundee; Professor Iain McInnes CBE, Vice Principal and Head of College, College of Medical, Veterinary & Life Sciences, University of Glasgow; and Professor Deborah Williamson, Dean of Medicine and Head of School, University of St Andrews.


The Guardian
3 days ago
- The Guardian
Drayton and Mackenzie by Alexander Starritt review – a warmly comic saga of male friendship
Scottish-German author Alexander Starritt's debut, The Beast, followed a tabloid journalist; his second novel, We Germans, was about a Nazi. His new book gets us rooting for two wealthy management consultants fresh out of Oxford, both of them men (assuming you haven't already tuned out). I suspect his agent might have found it easier to pitch a novel about sex criminals, not least because Drayton and Mackenzie's approach is so unfashionably traditionalist: it's a chunky, warmly observed, 9/11-to-Covid saga that, while comic in tone and often extremely funny, doesn't labour under any obligation to send up its protagonists, still less take them down. James Drayton, born to north London academics, is a socially awkward high achiever who privately measures himself against Christopher Columbus and Napoleon. Joining the McKinsey consultancy firm after coming top of his year in philosophy, politics and economics hasn't eased the pressure he has always felt to 'come up with something so brilliant it was irrefutable, like the obliterating ultra-white light of a nuclear bomb'. The key to his sense of destiny arrives in the unlikely shape of a slacking junior colleague, Roland Mackenzie, who graduated with a 2:2 in physics (for James, a shame akin to 'admitting erectile dysfunction'). Mutual suspicion thaws when they're tasked with restructuring an Aberdeen oil firm in possession of the patents for a pioneering underwater turbine – tempting James and Roland to poach their star engineer, quit McKinsey and go it alone in green energy. It's a mark of Starritt's confidence that the quest to harness tidal power – the book's main business – gets going only 200 pages in. We feel in safe hands from the start, reassured that he knows the story's every last turn ('In later years, when he was the subject of articles and interviews …' begins a line about James on the second page, his A-levels barely over). But we're kept on our toes: while the narration hews to the point of view of the central duo, it fills in the period backdrop – bailouts, Brexit – by dipping unpredictably into the perspective of real-life figures such as the Italian politician and former president of the European Central Bank Mario Draghi, seen delivering his famous 2012 speech vowing to save the euro 'whatever it takes'. As James and Roland jet around the world for venture capital, Starritt grants hefty speaking parts to PayPal co-founder Peter Thiel and Elon Musk (is he allowed to do that?, I asked myself: always a sign of a writer up to something exciting). The plot is crammed with curveballs for the plucky entrepreneurs, whether it's a shattered undersea cable, a coma caused by undiagnosed diabetes, or the dilemma that ensues when James and Roland fall for the same woman, having spent much of the novel joking uneasily about going to bed with each other. With a joyful knack for pithy analogy, the writing holds our attention as much as the events: the aforementioned relationship wrangle induces a 'low eczemal itch of guilt' in the eventual girlfriend-stealer, while new parents drive home from the maternity ward feeling 'like random civilians handed suits and guns and told to protect a miniature, defenceless president'. There's pathos as well as laughter in the protagonists' beer-and-Champions League blokeishness, a way to keep unvoiced feeling at bay. When Roland, nearly 30, wistfully recalls a teenage holiday fling, he thinks that 'she was probably someone's mum by now', a line hinting at his deep-lying sense of stasis, even as the company's ambition grows: not just electricity, but rocket fuel. Sign up to Bookmarks Discover new books and learn more about your favourite authors with our expert reviews, interviews and news stories. Literary delights delivered direct to you after newsletter promotion Because it concentrates on personalities rather than systems or ideas – not unlike Richard T Kelly's 2023 North Sea oil novel, The Black Eden – Drayton and Mackenzie probably won't be called 'cli-fi' in the way that the novels of Richard Powers are, but it's a reminder that science fiction isn't the only game in town in terms of writing about the environment and technology. Yet while there's no shortage of chat about electrolysers and optimal blade rotation, Starritt keeps his focus on the human story of invention: dangling quietly over the action is the fact that James, lauded as a visionary, relies mostly for his ideas on other people. In the end, though, critique of disruptor-era genius is less important here than feeling and friendship; the winningly Edwardian, even Victorian, approach to storytelling extends right to the heart-swelling deathbed climax. It might have been subtitled A Love Story. Drayton and Mackenzie by Alexander Starritt is published by Swift (£16.99). To support the Guardian buy a copy at Delivery charges may apply.